


Irrevocable

by attaccabottoni



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23284426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attaccabottoni/pseuds/attaccabottoni
Summary: Nero was relentless, leaving nothing of Vergil untouched.
Relationships: Nero/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67
Collections: Spardacest Server Fics and Art





	Irrevocable

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this fanart on Twitter](https://twitter.com/marusouda/status/1218582648009814016). EtA: Now it also comes with [its own fanart](https://twitter.com/marusouda/status/1255101414738497536), which makes me so deliriously happy, is this really okay, am I allowed, everyone who loves this pairing hold me.

He forgot how the argument started. He was not one for remembering such things, and would rather resolve things decisively, even with the people he loved. Prolonged sniping or starting a dispute for the sake of it wasn’t his style.

It was just Nero’s style, however, to get right in the face of the demon he was confronting, even if said demon was his father.

“You’ve never even apologized for anything,” Nero almost shouted, incensed beyond his wish to prevent any disappointing display in front of Vergil.

The look Vergil gave him was positively glacial. “To whose benefit would that serve?”

“Are you picking a fight? You’re making me want to rip your throat out with my teeth.”

“Will you, now.”

Vergil spoke with the same weight behind every word he has said to Nero, only with a lilting note at the end. Whether it was mocking or teasing, Nero couldn’t tell. If Nero told him he would like to open him up to see all his bones, Vergil would probably respond the same way.

* * *

He should never have let his son come close. That was what Vergil thought every time Nero turned to him with open expectation. Vergil wanted to warn him that exposing such weakness was akin to handing an enemy the means to his own destruction.

Yet Nero was not weak at all. He only gave himself too freely.

His will to fight was the one thing Vergil had that kept him together when he lost everything. Yet his son was willing to place in Vergil’s hands everything he could not afford to lose. How could Vergil fight that?

* * *

He liked to imagine himself immune to the effects of the sleek lines formed by the graceful movements his father made, but Vergil had no need for a weapon in his hands to be both threatening and enticing by taking a step towards him. The point when Nero would ever get used to this was becoming unreachable at each passing moment.

"I rather thought you would prefer not to merely mouth off about what you wanted.”

He could feel his face heating up without his permission. “It wasn’t a request.”

“So you do not want to consume my flesh and blood. My power, then. Is that what you’re asking of me?"

“No.”

He couldn’t ask his father to value him as much as he did power, now, could he?

* * *

Whenever they would join their bodies, there was none of Nero’s usual bravado. With the hardship he had borne, no one would blame him for washing his hands of Vergil, yet he was willing to extend his hand over and over. This vulnerability from Nero was unlike the sense he got from being V, in having to rally every ounce of sangfroid he had to keep moving, trying to do what was necessary in order to gain his desired end result. Because there was nothing in it for him but pain whenever he depended on anyone, V used Nero, as he did everyone else.

Had he first met Nero as Vergil and not as V, he would have wanted to harden Nero with rejection and failure, for surely that would protect him. But because Nero rescued V, and listened to V’s feelings even before they knew who they were to each other, V was able to see Nero’s true value. So instead, Vergil chose to answer Nero with a kind of acceptance that went against everything he used to believe about strength. When Nero reached for him, he reached back.

What else could he do, in the face of such goodness?

* * *

Despite his heart leaping to his throat, Nero shored up his boldness to ensure his voice wouldn’t squeak. “Would you really give me what I asked?”

“That depends on what you want.”

Vergil sounded as if he couldn’t care less what it was. Yet there was something rapt in his eyes that caught Nero’s attention. The vague dissonance made his hands twitch with frustration to the point of helplessness. He shouldn’t let Vergil get under his skin so easily, because Vergil could just be playing around. But for what purpose would he go along with the hopes Nero was pushing onto him?

Nero wondered what it would be like to be as beautiful as his father, to never have to worry over being wanted.

* * *

It must be a wondrous existence, being as good as Nero. Vergil could tear away all of his limbs, yet he would never have to feel that he was less than he was for the loss.

He should not let the hands of someone so good be laid upon him, and yet Nero was relentless, leaving nothing of Vergil untouched.

If Nero never met him, would this be prevented from ever starting? Should he have remained in the Underworld to spare his son from this slow entanglement of desire?

Demon or human, he didn’t have it in him to make Nero happy. Nothing in a life salvaged from pain and horror taught him how.

* * *

He blinked as a gloved hand reached for his. Vergil laid the tips of his fingers, as if Nero might shatter if handled too roughly, sliding across the top of his right hand to gently link their fingers together.

Maybe he was being sentimental, because he hadn’t gotten a new glove since Vergil took his arm and it grew back, but he recognized the significance of the simple gesture.

Being treated as if he was somebody treasured by someone so beautiful had Nero utterly entranced.

Vergil drew his hand away, and gave a small smirk.

“You don’t have to stare so much.”

That was when Nero chose to kiss him because, as whenever Nero did so, the only time Vergil would allow himself to gaze at him softly was when he thought Nero wasn’t watching.

If someone told him before all this that he would one day know the feel of his father’s lips, he would have freaked out. As it was, they could spend an entire day tracing the contours of each other’s mouths, and he still couldn’t get enough.

He used his wings to pull Vergil closer while using both hands to cradle his face, yet he had no idea what he could use to hold on to Vergil. All he could do was to fight to keep anything Vergil gave him, whatever it may be.

* * *

This was never going to be fair. Duty demanded that Vergil say to Nero that this stopped right here. That they could not do this any longer.

Yet even if Nero were to stay away because Vergil told him to, it would be already too late. They couldn’t return to how it was before. 

It was unbearable to think that this was how he might break Nero, but there was nothing Vergil could do to fix this, knowing how little it took to lose himself.

His memories were no better than graveyards of lives unmade and lost time, and forgetting wasn’t the appropriate punishment for what he had done.

How could Nero care for him, when Vergil was still missing too much of himself?

Is there even enough of him for Nero to hold on to?

* * *

Being with Vergil taught him that there were other ways to fight. Standing his ground through cold dissatisfaction and black abysses of moods. Contenting themselves with shared glances and faltering touches to be had in the fleeting moments of peace, before the longing turned into a terrible ache. Nero could be as violent as he could with Vergil’s body, but to Vergil’s mind, no agony was so awful as allowing sounds escape from behind clenched teeth hiding the trembling of his chin. As if saying anything else beyond Nero’s name while in throes of passion was an admission of a fatal weakness that no amount of power could hide. Nero fought to listen to what Vergil refuses to say, even if it meant endlessly waiting out the seeming constancy of Vergil’s silence.

When they reached release three times without Nero pulling out, Vergil was glassy eyed, breathing like his lungs were still spasming and his body was too wracked. Only Nero got to see him like this, that it worried him the first time he saw Vergil in that state, yet Vergil kept reaching for him afterwards with shaky hands. Recognition slowly dawned on him, that he has seen this before in V’s moment of utter vulnerability. It was the look of someone who couldn't return home for a long time, receiving the relief of having finally arrived.

He sympathized with V, that time before Nero had any reason to think that his father was within reach. It went against every instinct Nero had, allowing V to speed up his disintegration by pushing himself too hard. V had tried to give him what little solace he could with the truth. But Nero knew what it was like to endure being unlooked for, convincing himself that he was better off with the freedom from having to need anything from anyone. Did Vergil free himself from the ties of need, when he selfishly left Nero alone? Would it have been better if Vergil knew about him all this time, then chose to abandon him to ease his own suffering?

They had walked by each other’s side before they saw the ties that bound them together. Now that they have found each other, he would never let Vergil get away.

Nero had been born with so little that he could call his own, he didn’t know this was what he had been waiting for all his life, whether it was Vergil’s acknowledgment or his place in Vergil’s heart.

In truth, Nero didn’t want an apology. What he wanted from his father was forgiveness.

Would Vergil forgive Nero for wanting to tie him to himself forever?

* * *

Nero sat up from the bed, murmuring about getting a wet cloth to clean them up. Vergil gazed at him helplessly, weighed down with the full knowledge of being unable to return the sweetness he was given.

Before Nero could move away, he placed a hand on his son’s right arm, drew it closer and laid his lips on it lightly.

If there was something he wanted, Nero would tell him. Vergil would wait on his word forever if he had to.

Perhaps then he would finally be worthy enough of his love.


End file.
